


Cinnamon Days

by acoolgirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hunger Games Lore, Origin Story, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acoolgirl/pseuds/acoolgirl
Summary: David Undersee is convinced he's a loser. Marilyn Donner is convinced to see him succeed.





	Cinnamon Days

“Morning Uncle Isaac,” David greets his Uncle, who’s sitting on the chair by the door, doing up his laces.

“Morning,” Uncle greets back in his quiet, gruff voice.

Uncle stands from the chair and David moves over to sit in it so he can put on his own shoes. He doesn’t really pay attention as Uncle seems to be looking for something in their small common room, and is about to get up and head to school when Uncle calls for him.

“David,” Uncle Isaac says. “Happy Birthday.”

Blinking, David turns around to face his Uncle. He was surprised the older man had remembered. Then again, it was sort of easy to recall his birthday, since it was also the first day of school: September 1st.

“Thanks,” David replies somewhat awkwardly. While his Uncle could communicate well enough to land a job as a state magistrate, in the dormitory when it was just the two of them, he was rather quiet, more or less leaving David to his own devices. Touchy-feely moments like this were far and in-between in the Undersee dorm.

“I, uh, have something for you,” now it’s Uncle Isaac's turn to be awkward. Now David is really shocked. Uncle Isaac has never gotten him a present before, the most he’s ever gotten was a pat on the shoulder.

He holds out a small black box, and David takes it from him, almost reverently.

Lifting the lid, a silver watch stares back at David.

“Uncle Isaac…” David breathes, pulling out the watch and staring at in awe. He was still calculating how many pay stubs this put them back when Uncle Isaac speaks up again.

“There’s a message on the back,” he tells him, something close to a smile on his face.

Message? With a frown, David turns over the watch, and there, on the back of the centerpiece is the sentence:

 _Time will show_  
_where you are_  
_supposed to be_

  
His eyes burn when he looks back up at him. Uncle Isaac meets his gaze for just a moment, before looking away uncomfortably.

“You’re starting high school now, right?” he asks. David nods in reply. “Abraham would have been proud of you.”

David is sure by now that his face is bright red from how hard he’s trying not to cry. He could count on one hand the number of times Uncle Isaac spoke about his younger, and dead, brother.

“Sara too,” Uncle adds gruffly. At the mention of his Mother, David can’t stop the tears.

“Uh..” Uncle Isaac says uncertainly as David swats at his tears furiously.

“I’m fine!” he squeaks. “You should go downstairs, don’t wanna be late.”

Uncle Isaac pauses and then nods. As he passes him, he pats his shoulder once and then he’s gone.

As soon as the door closes, David sinks into the chair he was just sitting in and tries to control his ragged breath. His Mother had died giving birth to him, and a few months later his Father also passed from an accident at the power plant he worked in. At just five months old, he moved from District 5 to 12, where his Uncle had gotten a job in the District’s Justice Building.

Since he was five months old, he’s lived in the upper-level dorms of the Building, raised by the nanny Uncle Isaac hired until he was old enough to work a stove on his own.

It was extremely easy to feel unwanted and lonely in the environment he lived in, but this watch was proof that maybe he wasn’t too awful to be around.

Pulling himself together, David rushes out, cringing when he passes the piano in the lobby one of the female magistrate’s forced him to play for her when she wanted to relax. She always licked her fingers and slicked his hair back and it always made him want to vomit.

In the dorm’s kitchen, David toasts a slice of bread and makes his way outside, bread between his teeth as he ran.

School is just around the corner when he’s grabbed by the collar and flung backwards, landing roughly on his back.

“Well look at you,” a deep voice sneers. When David reopens his eyes, a huge peacekeeper looms above him. “What’s got you all up and running this morning?”

“School,” David answers angrily. Peacekeepers, in his opinion, were the scum of the Earth.

 _“School,”_ the Peacekeeper repeats sarcastically. “How precious. Gonna learn the different types of pickaxes today?”

“Jones,” another Peacekeeper shows up. “He’s not Seam.”

Jones’ face is hidden by his helmet, but David can easily picture the look of confusion on his face.

“The hell is he?” Jones asks, leaning closer to peer at him. This wasn’t the first time his looks had caused confusion amongst the District. He wasn’t as pale as the merchants or as dark as Seam folks, with his brown hair in the middle of the dichotomy as well. His hazel eyes, though, were what generated the most confusion. No one in the District had the same coloring as him, save Uncle Isaac.

David doesn’t wait around to hear the other Peacekeeper’s answer. Pushing himself up and leaving behind his fallen toast, David runs around the two and into the school, angrily brushing the dirt off of him as he went.

With just minutes till the first bell, David grabs his new schedule from the main office and heads to his first class of high school. Despite himself, he can’t help but feel excited: he was starting a new chapter in his life, regardless of what jerks promised to be included.

His first class is English, and after settling in a desk in the very first row, right in the middle, David pulls out his summer assignment. They were told to write an essay on what was most important to them. Part of the grade would be based on the presentation of the speech to the class.

David was looking forward to sharing his essay/speech. He had worked hard on it.

Their teacher, Mrs. Rice, is an elderly woman, who for the most part, seems nice enough as she does the attendance and goes over the syllabus. _Finally_ , it’s time for presentations. When Mrs. Rice asks for volunteers, David’s hand shoots up, and in shock, he realizes no one else raised their hand.

A bit embarrassed at appearing over-eager, David goes to the front of the classroom and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly jittery nerves. Then he’s aware of the weight of his new watch on his wrist again, and he’s able to refocus. Unfolding the two pieces of paper, David begins to read.

“Have you ever stepped out and just observed our District? I have, and every time I look out, the same problems look back. We are a small District, yes, but does that mean we have to be an impoverished, underdeveloped, overlooked District? I believe the answer to all three questions is no. And that’s what’s most important to me: discovering one’s potential. Many of us, including myself, are afraid to look into ourselves to see who we are, and what we wish to do in this world, and many more are afraid to put in the work to become this ideal person they see. But what do we have to be afraid of? Progress? Happiness? A newer, better world? If each of us was to become our best selves, we could then apply what we’ve learned and pour it back into our home. By realizing our potentials, we could change the very destiny of 12! To do this, we must-”

“Mr. Undersee,” Mrs. Rice suddenly cuts him off, a strained look on her aged face. “That’s enough, thank you.”

“But I’m not done,” David points out, confused.

“That’s enough,” Mrs. Rice repeats tightly. David glances out at his classmates who are watching the interaction with rapt attention. He suddenly realizes that all the merchant kids sit on one side, and the Seam on the other.

Humiliated, David returns to his seat, in the middle of the Town and Seam. Mrs. Rice gives him back his paper. At the top, in bright red and underlined, is _0._

Potential, realized.

 

* * *

 

“Yo, Undersize.”

With a sigh, David looks up from his canteen-bought lunch as Ricky Howells and his fellow cronies approached him. Ricky, with his wide-set eyes and chubby cheeks, had the distinct look of a toad, which is precisely what David mentally referred to him as.

“Real riveting speech you gave there in English,” Toad smirks caustically. “Got me thinking hard.”

“Must be a new experience for you,” David says flatly.

Toad’s face twists in anger, but at the last moment, he’s able to compose himself.

“Hey, Cliff,” he says to the boy to his right. Cliff, with his long face and buck teeth, is a mule. “What potential do you wanna realize?”

Mule pretends to think for a moment, before reaching over and swiping David’s apple from his tray.

“Hey!’ David immediately protests but Cliff ignores him.

“I’m just reaching my potential of eatin’ an apple, sheesh Undersize,” Mule mocks.

“Say, I’m real thirsty now that I think about it,” Quince-portly and beady-eyed: a pig- says all of a sudden. David is a moment too late, his milk is in his pudgy hands. “Lemme reach my potential of drinking milk.”

Toad leans down, clears his throat, and then spits on his chicken and beans.

“Potential: reached,” he sneers, gray eyes flashing with malice.

“The three of you are pathetic,” David says simply. “I pity the women who birthed you.”

The same gray eyes flash with rage.

“Yeah, and where’s your mom? Probably with the dog that shat in your eyes and hair,” Toad laughs cruelly, Pig and Mule join in.

“I’m from five, everyone there has brown hair and hazel eyes,” David nearly hisses. At least he thinks that’s the case. He hasn’t exactly visited.

“Then go back to 5,” Pig taunts. “12 doesn’t want you!”

As he wondered if what Pig said really was true, he misses a pair of eyes staring steadfastly at his face.

 

* * *

 

High school sucks.

Academically, he’s never done better. Now that they’re no longer graded over petulant activities like “group singing”, he’s consistently come top in all his classes-save English. Honestly, he couldn’t figure out Rice. She either gave him an F or an A-there just was no in between with the woman.

Still, passing the bulletin board that has the names of the top 10 students from every grade whenever there’s a test is one of the few highlights of his life, even if he usually comes fifth in English.

He still hasn’t made any friends, which isn’t surprising, but ever since his speech on the first day of school, the other kids have grown outwardly antagonistic, not including Toad and the traveling farm, which has hated him since day one.

Actually, there was _one_ person who he could consider an acquaintance. His lab partner: Haymitch Abernathy.

Abernathy was the son of the Mine’s Captain, the position the mine’s doled out the heftiest paycheck to, which meant that he was too well off to be Seam, and too Seam to be a merchant.

His looks, like David’s, also drew scrutiny. With a merchant grandmother, Abernathy’s features were lightened just enough so that he too did not fit the District’s dichotomy of light and dark. When David wasn’t taking notes and Abernathy wasn’t making wisecracks, the two got along well enough, but David was pretty sure the reason why the two didn’t...further their relationship was because it would be rather obvious the two pariahs became friends out of lack of choices.

David is still thinking about his smartass lab partner when he passes the bulletin board. He’s distracted enough by his thoughts that he almost misses something very important.

_Mathematics_

_1\. David Undersee_

_History_  
  
_1\. David Undersee_

_Science_

_1\. Marilyn Donner_

_2\. David Undersee_

“What the-” David suddenly stops and stares at the listing of the top 10 scores in Science. _“Marilyn Donner?”_

“Yes?”

Whirling around, he finds the sweet shop twins staring at him. David has no idea which one is Marilyn. He suddenly feels as if he’s been transported into a myth: if he speaks to the wrong girl, he’ll be cursed, and if speaks to the right one, he’ll have glad tidings.

“Uh, you got the, I,” David stammers stupidly, staring determinedly in the space between their shoulders. “Good job.”

One of them steps forward and comes to stand next to him, reading the lists.

“Oh, look at that,” who he assumes is Marilyn says. “I finally beat you in a subject.”

_Finally?_

He’s more than perturbed by the girl next to him. First of all, he’s pretty sure he’s never spoken to a girl as pretty as her before, secondly, her hair is so straight it makes him self-conscious of the wavy mess on his head, thirdly, _how did she beat him?_

“Chemistry is very intuitive,” now he’s sure she’s an ancient witch because she’s reading his mind, apparently. “The atom...its nucleus...it makes all of us up. As I said, intuitive.”

She turns to face him, and for a moment he forgets about his internal dilemma as he takes in her large blue eyes.

“Good effort,” she praises him, sticking out her hand for him to shake. He’s about to reflexively reach up to shake it, when he realizes just what the hell is going on.

“I get it,” David says icily, letting his hand drop. Marilyn’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Couldn’t let the weird 5 guy come in top, huh?”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Marilyn’s twin speaks up, soft features suddenly hard. David’s eyes dart to the board again where he sees Maysilee Donner in eighth.

“I won’t be talking at all,” David tells Maysilee. “I’m gonna go and reclaim first place.”

David stalks out of the school, determined to never be bested by _Marilyn_ ever again.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” David says in a low voice, mindful that just three tables away, Marilyn sits with the Apothecary's girl. “What do you know about the sweet shop girls?”

Abernathy looks at him like he’s lost his entire mind. But he hasn’t. Besides pouring himself totally into his science textbook, he’s also been gathering information on his opponent. The better he understands her motives, the easier it will be to crush them. He’s been covertly spying on the twins for the past few days, and all he’s been able to really gather is that they’re quiet and keep to themselves and their few friends for the most part.

“Do not tell me,” Abernathy shakes his head in disgust. “You’re one of the guy’s that wants to take them up to the slag heap...at the same time.”

David nearly falls off his stool. “What? _No!_ Guys really want that?”

Since entering high school, guys his age had finally begun the shameful trek up to the slagheap for a few minutes of dirty pleasure with whichever willing girl. David could never imagine indulging in something so crude, no matter how much little David wanted him to.

Abernathy’s disgusted face turns sympathetic, even though what he says is, “Pal, there’s a higher chance of a bee drinking vinegar than one of them going out with you.”

“I don’t like either of them!” David hisses, looking around to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation. “You see the one up there? She’s trying to sabotage me.”

“Really,” Abernathy does not sound convinced.

“I’m serious! She’s trying to come first in all the subjects.”

Abernathy rubs his chin and his eyes grow contemplative.

“Well, I have a theory,” the other boy says quietly, eyes darting around conspiratorially before leaning towards David. David immediately leans in too, desperate to hear what he has to say. “I think she wants….”

“Yes?” David breathes, heart suddenly beating fast.

“Good grades,” Abernathy finishes flatly.

David resists the urge to slug him and doesn’t speak to him again for the remaining period.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, for the love of God!”

  
_Science_

_1\. Marilyn Donner_  
_2\. Maysilee Donner_  
_3\. David Undersee_

Not only had he been knocked down from his first place, but now he sat in stinking third place.

“I told her she didn’t need to enact revenge,” a soft voice suddenly speaks next to him. “But Maysilee is very stubborn. And vengeful.”

Next to him is Marilyn, reading the scores with a serene look on her face.

“How did-” David stops himself. He won’t ask for her secret to success like a pathetic fool. “Nevermind. I _will_ beat you two in the next test.”

“What about English?” Marilyn asks suddenly. “You don’t seem to mind that you’re seventh.” Now that she mentioned it, he realized that she was first there as well.

“I’ll come first in English too,” David vows, though how, he’s not sure. Rice acts as if he murdered her kitten and pissed on its grave.

“Shake on it?” Marilyn extends out a small hand, and David stares at it. To not shake for the second time would be unnecessarily rude, and as much as he hates to admit it, she’s been nothing but civil in her sabotage.

He reaches up and clasps her hand and nearly gasps at the contact. Her skin is so soft and warm, that he’s reminded of a hot bath, and for the strangest moment, David feels as if he’s submerged in an...essence of something that he’s never once felt before. It leaves him both dizzy and breathless.

The second he lets go the feeling is gone, and David blinks dazedly, unsure of what had just happened.

“See you in two weeks,” Marilyn says softly, leaving David to stand in the middle of the hall, staring at her retreating figure as he wondered just what had happened when he held her hand.

He _really_ hoped she wasn’t an actual witch.

 

* * *

 

As much as he was secretly looking forward to it, he doesn’t see Marilyn after two weeks.

A few days earlier, there had been a terrible storm that had shut down the mines for two days as power was restored. When they reopened, miners were told they would not be compensated for the two days off. In the Seam, two days of money was often the difference between eating at night or going hungry. Naturally, this stirred great anger amongst the miners, and a strike was called.

David still could not erase the image of dead men hanging in the streets, their bodies swaying with the wind like wind chimes, or the sound of whips on bare skin, the noise pulling at the heavy air like a fevered madman.

On top of the public executions, Mayor Byrd had instituted a total District lockdown as a punishment and a warning, effectively extending their 9 pm curfew to 24 hours.

David and Uncle Isaac were lucky enough that the Justice Building was stocked with food. He knew that even the merchants must have starved in this two-day lockdown. He tried to engage his Uncle in some small talk, to save himself from going totally insane, but Uncle Isaac more or less ignored him, his lined face looking ancient as he sat in the dark living room, unmoving and unspeaking.

Those two days locked inside the Justice Building had had a profound and what seemed like an irreversible effect on David.

When the lockdown was finally lifted, David was relieved to see that the dead bodies had finally been removed, and the bloody streets had been covered by a layer of coal dust-infused snow.

The relief ebbs quickly and he sets off on the somber walk to school. He’s stopped once more by Peacekeepers, who today don’t seem to care if he’s not Seam as they root through his bag for his lunch. When they find none, one of them kicks him in the knee.

Normally, David would have grown angry, but today, he just limps away like a dog. He couldn’t fight back, and if he did, he’d just be hung up.

He doesn’t care that the bell has already rung by the time he makes it into the old building. The yellow fluorescents are too heavy. The air is too thin. Why is he here?

He turns a corner and finds that he’s not the only one that’s late, the entire farm is here.

“Well, look who it is,” Toad sneers, beginning to make his way towards David. Normally, David would just ignore him, but there’s something on Ricky's face….something twisted and dark, that he turns around. He’s made it only a few steps thanks to his busted knee when Mule and Pig catch him by the arms and drag him into the bathroom. The fling him roughly to the floor.

“Did you enjoy your vacation?” Ricky asks quietly, words dripping with malice. “I heard the Justice Building has its food brought in from the Capital, fresh.”

They have a cafeteria downstairs with a lousy cook, though the common kitchen is stocked with some ingredients for personal cooking.

“Wonder what they eat in 5,” Pig asks, stepping forward while cracking his knuckles. “A knuckle sandwich, maybe?”

Mule steps forward as well, probably to help him, but Ricky holds up a hand, stopping them both.

“Gentlemen,” Rickie drawls. “Let’s give our friend here a taste of a 12 classic.”

“No!” David shouts as Mule and Pig drag him over to a stall, Rickie right behind them. “No, stop, please!”

“Fuck you,” Ricky says before shoving David’s head into the toilet bowl.

David struggles, but Mule and Pig’s hold is too tight, and he’s quickly depleting his stored oxygen levels.

_This isn’t how I want to die_

Suddenly the grip on his neck is gone, and a moment later, his arms are free as well. Coming up with a gasp, David chokes in huge lungfuls of air as he sputters and wipes away the water from his eyes with his sleeve. He turns around just in time to see Pig’s head slammed into a sink, where he falls to the ground, joining Toad and Mule.

Asher Hawthorne steps into view.

“Hey,” the taller boy greets, as if this was a normal occurrence.

David just gapes at him, unable to formulate a single thought after what had just happened.

“Don’t take it too personally,” Asher continues, nudging Toad’s unconscious body with his foot. “His baby sister died from the cold. The Mayor shut off the power in the Seam.”

David hadn’t even known the Mayor could _do_ that. Then he remembers that Asher’s own parents had died when he was young, and he was left to be raised by his older sister, who suffered from various health problems of her own.

“Is your sister alright?” David asks, slowly pushing himself up. Asher seems surprised at David’s question, but nods nevertheless.

“She’s actually a maid for the Mayor,” Asher explains. “So she got to stay there during the lockdown.”

David nods and stares at his feet. Asher was uncontestedly the most popular guy in his grade, with every girl pining after him, and every guy wishing he was him. But unlike every other popular kid, Asher didn’t use his social status as an excuse to be cruel to those ‘below’ him. So, really, David wasn’t too surprised he had helped him. You could tell just by looking into his eyes that he was the type of person to always do what he thought was right.

“Thank you,” David says quietly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they had killed me.”

“I heard about your speech,” Asher says, making David look up in surprise. “With your brains and convictions, you could do real good.

“Yeah, right,” David huffs. “You saw what happened to the brave men that tried to stand up and make a change. Now their families will suffer and starve, while nothing changes.”

David now saw what he had been: a naive fool.

“I did,” Asher concedes. “But no one listens to lowly miners anyways. You can _be_ someone they do listen to.”

“I’m just a loser,” David says simply, because that’s the truth.

“Yeah,” Asher snorts. “Right now you are. You should really lift weights or something.”

David can’t help but laugh at this.

“Listen,” Asher says, serious once more. “If I see you in the mines in four years, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Not if I start lifting weights,” David volleys back, but sobers quickly. “Really though, thank you for helping me.”

Asher waves him off and begins to make his way to the door. “Don’t mention it.”

“Hey,” David calls out. Asher pauses at his place at the door. “I owe you, Hawthorne.”

“That you do, Undersee.”

 

* * *

 

Marilyn kicks his chair. Glancing behind him, he sees that she’s holding out a folded piece of paper. As casually as he can, he reaches one arm behind him for her to pass the note to him. Her fingers skim his palm when he presses the paper into his hand, and for a second his brain short circuits.

He really needed to get a grip.

_You didn’t come to school yesterday. Is everything alright?_

Correction: he had gone, but after having his kneecap inverted followed by murder via toilet, he allowed himself to ditch.

_Just a little under the weather. I’m fine now._

He repeats the same action with his arm and wants to kick himself when he jumps at the feel of her hand again. Maybe her spells only worked with physical contact.

The silky feeling of her fingertips alerts him of a reply and he retracts his arm.

_I’m glad :) Are you ready for the Math and Science test tomorrow? Our term paper is due as well._

He hadn’t studied for either test, nor had he begun the paper. Despite his little heart-to-heart with Hawthorne in the bathroom, he still found himself totally unmotivated to study again. The truth was, he didn’t even know what he wanted to be when he grew up. Before, he was too busy envisioning the Big Picture, not really glossing over the “intricate” details of how to achieve it, like say, what occupation he should have. This, in his opinion, only solidified his opinion that he was a big-talking moron.

Turning around, David just gives her a tiny grimace/smile, and faces the board again, not taking in a single word their history teacher said.

 

* * *

 

Despite promising himself he wouldn’t, he still finds himself in front of the bulletin board.

His name is nowhere to be found.

Before she can say anything, David speaks. Over the course of the months, he’s somehow become attune enough to her presence to know she’s there when he can’t even see her.

“Congratulations,” David offers in an empty voice. “You did it. You beat me in every subject.”

“David,” he nearly jumps at her tone. He’s never heard her sound so...annoyed. Almost fearfully, he turns to her. Her normally large eyes are narrowed. “What happened?”

He narrows his eyes back, even though his spine is tingling with _something_. “I flunked, you won. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Maybe if you ever spoke to me, you’d know what I want,” Marilyn says angrily. “You’ve convinced yourself so completely that somehow I’m your enemy, that you never once stopped to realize that _maybe_ I could have been a friend. For a guy who wrote an essay on tolerance, you sure don’t exhibit any.”

David’s face feels so hot, he’s surprised he hasn’t passed out. He doesn’t even know _how_ she knew he wrote that paper. Maybe Rice showed it to her after she gave him a zero.

“Pardon?” David croaks awkwardly, his fingers beginning to twitch. One of the side-effects of playing that damn piano--his nervous tick was twitchy fingers.

“Your speech at the beginning of the year really touched me,” Marilyn says in a much calmer voice, though she still does look pretty pissed off. “I thought hard about what you said, and realized that I wasn’t reaching for my true potential, and decided that I would work hard and win the medical scholarship.”

The medical scholarship was awarded to a single student. The recipient was shipped off to a medical school in the Capital, and came back to a cushy position with the Mine company.

“And I would keep my rates low,” Marilyn continues. “So _everyone_ could see me. If I get the scholarship, every patient I help will owe a thanks to you, because I otherwise would not have gone into the field.”

“That’s not-” David begins weakly, but Marilyn cuts him off.

“But here you are, acting like a-like a turd!” Marilyn huffs. For someone hardly five foot, she was rather formidable. “We’re only 14, you don’t need to have every aspect of your future totally planned out, but to give up totally because you’re scared...I misjudged you as a bigger man than you actually are.”

“I’m not _scared,”_ David finally gains enough bearings to reply. “I’m just pragmatic enough to recognize I can’t do anything.”

“Not with that attitude,” Marilyn sneers. He didn’t think a girl as nicely dispositioned as her even _had_ the capacity to sneer. “If you could inspire me, a nobody, with a stupid summer assignment, _think_ what you could do if you put your mind to it.”

“You’re not a nobody,” David has no idea why he says that, but he needs her to know that’s not true. She was intelligent and kind and seriously had no idea how many guys wanted an evening with her up at the heap--with or without her sister.

Marilyn just rolls her eyes. “When you’re done being an oaf, you can apologize to me at the sweet shop.”

 

* * *

 

He must have been pacing back forth in front of the bakery for so long, that Marek, the baker’s son comes out.

“You okay?” he asks hesitantly, looking him over.

“Yeah, yeah,” David sighs. “Sorry.”

“Are you going to see Marilyn?”

David turns around and sees the Apothecary’s girl with an armload of groceries. Great.

“Uh, yes,” David answers awkwardly, hyper-aware of Marek right next to him. Marek, however, doesn’t seem to pay attention to him.

“Hey, Alyssum,” the stocky boy greets, somewhat shyly. Alyssum’s eyes dart over to him before quickly looking away.

“Hi,” she says quietly, and David is close enough to see the pink in her cheeks. Ok, he’s officially been here too long if he’s caught in Merchant drama.

“Well, I'll be on my way, then,” he says to neither of them in particular, walking three shops down to _Donner Sweets._

Marilyn, he realizes, smells like the sweet shop. Not that he minds, the sweet shop smells delicious. Not that he finds Marilyn delicious. That’s just weird.

“Did you come here to stare or buy something?”

David looks up from the display case he was apparently staring at as he was imagining smelling Marilyn’s hair and finds Maysilee standing before him, a suspicious look on her face and arms crossed. He knows for sure now it’s Maysilee; her face is sharper than Marilyn’s, and her eyes are smaller, with a...cunning look to them, the same kind the air around Abernathy was.

“I’d like these,” David says quickly, pointing to whatever he was staring at. It seems to be some kind of red chewy candy. “They’re my uh, favorite.”

“Really?” a slow smile begins to cross Maysilee’s features. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to give you a little extra.”

“That’s not necessary,” David protests, but Maysilee ignores him, pulling out a brown paper bag and pouring a _generous_ scoopful of the candy.

“Here,” she holds out the bag. “A word of advice, it tastes best when you have a handful at once.”

Who is he to argue with the professional? Reaching into the bag, he pulls out a handful and pops them into his mouth.

His eyes immediately water at the strong taste of cinnamon stinging every taste bud on his tongue, and he’s pretty sure his nose is running too.

“Mmm,” David says around the candy as he focuses on not crying/sneezing/gagging/throwing up. “So...good...”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Maysilee croons. “I’ll tell Marilyn that, since she was the one that made them.”

Damn it all. Now he can’t even spit them out.

Clutching the counter, David shuts his eyes as he tries to chew the freaking candy. Seriously, he was moments away from passing out from the heat-it was that bad.

“Maysilee!”

He hears Marilyn scold her twin for making David eat so many cinnamon chews at once, and more than gratefully spits into the trash can she holds up for him, heaving as the heat spread into his chest.

“Here, have some fudge,” she says sympathetically, holding up the sweet to his lips. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t too bad of a predicament.

Biting into the fudge, David nearly moans at the sweet relief it brings.

“It’s milk chocolate,” Marilyn explains. “It should help with the heat.”

He stops midchew when he realizes that there’s no way he can afford this with his meager allowance. He already has to skip lunch tomorrow for those damn cinnamon chews.

“Keep eating,” Marilyn urges. “Don’t worry about the cost, it was a sample anyways.”

Even if it was a sample, he highly doubted they gave out samples in that size, but takes the fudge anyways.

A quick survey of the storefront tells him that Maysilee has gone into the back. Good riddance.

“I’m sorry, Marilyn,” David apologizes once he’s swallowed. “I was a total tool to you. I hope we can start over.”

“Depends,” Marilyn sniffs as she dutifully cleans the glass countertop with a rag. “Are you going to continue with your pity party?”

“No,” David sighs. “I’m going to try again. I still don’t know what I want to do, but I can’t stop that from developing the foundation on where I _will_ do something.”

Marilyn stops cleaning and looks up at him with a smile. “Now that sounds more like you.”

“But Marilyn, that becoming a doctor thing, it’s great, but it’s all you,” David says. “None of that can be linked back to me.”

“If you say so,” Marilyn shrugs. David gets the distinct feeling she still disagrees. “I guess I’ll just have to charge you extra for your check up’s then.”

“Deal,” David chuckles. He suddenly sees his future-self spending his entire paycheck so Marilyn would kiss his boo-boos. Banishing these thoughts, he holds out his hand. “Friends?”

For some reason, Marilyn’s eyes dim, though her smile remains large. She places her hand in his and that drowning feeling is back, but unlike with the toilet, he feels as if he’s coming alive.

“Friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> Taadaa, a fic no one asked for! I would not be surprsed if this is the only fic out there from young Mayor Undersee's POV, and I would also not be surprised if no one reads this, lol.
> 
> To anyone who dared to click this and actually made it all the way down here, this fic won't be long, capping at five chapters max.


End file.
